


Something for Muffin

by madamelibrarian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Awkward Flirting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Shyness, Socially Awkward Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamelibrarian/pseuds/madamelibrarian
Summary: The Reader is a successful woman who owns her own business, so talking was really a problem, until he walked into her bakery. Now she can't seem to find the words to say ask for what she really wants.





	Something for Muffin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helvonasche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvonasche/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to Helvonasche. She is the best macron of them all.

It was a day like any other. A Monday to be specific and one of the busiest for your shop. All the surrounding offices provided a steady stream of customers wanting their morning pastries or afternoon quiche with enough coffee to fill an olympic swimming pool. Y/N had gotten used to the ebb and flow after several years in this particular location. She’d worked hard to be where she was today and was one of the lucky few who could say that she loved her job. 

Her favorite part, other than thinking up creative ways to put tasty fillings in dough, she loved meeting new people and making them smile. She’d never had any problem chatting with the patrons, be it a little kid smearing fingerprints on the glass while making a decision or the little old man from the next block who came all the way just for his weekly treat. At least that’s what she thought until that morning. 

Y/N had just finished putting a tray of fresh macarons she’d spent the weekend making when he walked in. A tall figure with medium length hair in a yellow shirt that he filled out quite well. He was handsome. More than anyone she’d seen come in before and it set her pulse racing. Y/N went to greet him, like she did to anyone else but found that her voice wouldn’t work for her. She swallowed and mentally screamed at herself. This hadn’t happened since High School when her crush had finally said hello. It was a damned ridiculous reaction but here Y/N was working her mouth like a fish as the power of speech escaped her. 

“Hi,” the guy finally said with a polite smile, “Um… do you have any cinnamon bagels?”

Y/N nodded mutely and pointed at the end of the case. 

He nodded his thanks and walked down to take a look. After a few seconds, he pointed at the bagels and said that he wanted a dozen. Y/N sprang into action and cheered to herself that she still remembered what a dozen meant. One packed box and a steaming cup on the counter, you squeaked out the total owed and he handed over exact change, stuffing a couple of dollars into the jar. 

Once the bell had rung, signalling his departure, her tongue unfroze and a stream of unspoken thoughts came pouring out, “Hi! My name is Y/N. Thank you for coming to All or Muffin, how can I service you.” When she’d finished she groaned and dropped her head down on the counter, “You moron! You passed up a perfectly good chance to chat up a cute guy.”

She didn’t have long to stew in her own embarrassment before the next customer came in, kicking off a brisk early mornings’ business. 

Everyday that week, the tall man who Y/N had come to nickname Moose so she could have something to call him in her head, came in and picked out a few items to go with his morning coffee. His orders weren’t as large as the first and Y/N figured that it was a one off for his office or friends. She didn’t care either way, all she wanted to be able to do was say more than two words to him. At least she worked her way up to saying “Hi” and “Thank You” in addition to what he owed her in money. Each time he came in, she felt she was more smitten with him than the last, which was ridiculous because she didn’t even know his name. It was juvenile and not at all like an adult woman with a business of her own should act. And that’s exactly what she told her friend, Harper, at lunch that Saturday. 

“You mean to tell me that a good looking guy has been coming into your store everyday for a week and you haven’t asked his name?” Harper asked incredulously as she leaned back in her chair, “Jesus Y/N! Have you been snorting too much caster sugar or what?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, “I’m telling you, Harp, this guy is beyond ‘good looking’. He’s-He’s gorgeous. With the dimples and hair and voice. I’m broken. That’s it. Broken.”

“Well you better put on some big girl panties soon and talk to the guy before he starts to think that you’re missing brain cells,” Harper said. 

“Hi, My name is Y/N. Sorry I’m a dork, let's fuck?” Y/N snorted as she picked up her fork, stabbing at the pasta on her plate. 

Harper laughed, gently shoving Y/N’s shoulder, “That’s the spirit. Although I’d ask him for a date first.” 

Y/N shrugged with a little smirk of her own, “I don’t know. Climbing him like a tree sounds good right about now. Five years is a long time without getting some.” 

“I knew you started a convent and not a bakery,” Harper teased, picking up her glass to drink. 

“You should see the cobwebs,” Y/N replied. 

“I’ll take that as a rhetorical request and not an invitation,” Harper said, “So, are you going to find your tongue and talk to ‘The Moose’ next time he comes in?”

Y/N shrugged, lifting her fork to her mouth, “Eventually,” she said before stuffing herself into silence.

**.oOo.**

‘Eventually’ turned into weeks of half sentences when he came in. It was irritating to Y/N that she still hadn’t worked up the courage to actually speak to him. Her friends were almost as frustrated as she was because they’d spent countless hours listening to her bemoan her lack of wit in his presence, and it would seem that the Fates were tired of it as well. 

It was late on Wednesday afternoon and The Moose hadn’t come in. Y/N tried to tell herself that it was fine. People miss days all the time. That didn’t explain why she felt so down about it. It wasn’t like they had a deep meaningful relationship. He was a customer and she was a Baker. Instead of feeling bad for herself, she busied herself with planning out next week's special confectionaries. She’d made it halfway through the menu when the little brass bell above the door jingled. Keeping her back to the door, Y/N called over her shoulder, “Be with you in just one sec.”

“Good. So you can talk,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. 

Y/N froze with the pen poised above the page as she felt a flush lighting up her cheeks, “Oh god!” she groaned before turning around to face him.  

“Now there’s something I’ve not been called before. The name is actually Sam,” he said with a bright smile, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“N-no,” you answered nervously, gripping the pen tightly. 

Sam, formerly ‘The Moose’, leaned on the counter and said, “I’ve seen you talk to other customers and you’re almost bubbly, but with me you’re laconic. What gives? Do I smell funny or do you just hate me?”

“W-what?” she stammered out as thoughts started racing through her mind faster about how he thought she didn’t like him and that she’d dug herself a nice hole so she might as well go lay down in it. 

“Monosyllabic it is,” Sam said and straightened back up, “Yes or no. Do you not want me to come in here?”

Y/N swallowed around the lump in her throat, mustering up her courage to do what Harper had told her to do from the beginning. “No, I mean yes, I want you to come in.” 

Sam brightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets, curling his shoulders to make himself less intimidating, “Then why the mime-time when I come in? I can’t be that bad to talk to.” 

“I-I didn’t know what to say because of what I wanted to say,” Y/N said. 

“And what was that?” Sam asked, “Because there’s been something I’ve wanted to say too.” 

Y/N shook her head and blushed a bit harder as the various things she wanted to say over the weeks flitted back into memory, “It’s dorky. At least I think it is. What did you wanna say?”

Sam stepped close to the counter and looked directly into Y/N’s eyes, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

In that moment, as soon as the words left his mouth, Y/N could have been knocked over by a gentle breeze. Of all the things this man that she’d been mooning over could have said, that was not what she expected. “You want to go out to dinner? With me?” she asked, trying to process the events in her mind. 

“I don’t see anyone else in the room,” He said looking around for anyone else, “but it all depends on two things.” 

“And what are the conditions of your date invitation,” Y/N asked, a hint of her real self coming through. 

Sam leaned forward and dropped his voice low, “You saying yes and telling me your name,”

Y/N’s heart sped up with excitement. This was it. This was the moment she’d been fantasizing about even if the roles were reversed from how she’d planned it. Smiling at Sam for the first time, she said, “My name is Y/N and I like Italian.” 


End file.
